


Wanna Know a Secret?

by eyesfixedonthesun22



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Dirty Talk, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Light Angst, Male-Female Friendship, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Smut, Soft Billy Hargrove, Stranger Things 3, Swearing, Vaginal Fingering, billy hargrove - Freeform, subtle fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-12 08:35:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19943260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyesfixedonthesun22/pseuds/eyesfixedonthesun22
Summary: Being friends with Billy Hargrove was surprisingly easy. Being caught by him in a compromising situation...not so much.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> No one asked for this. Haha. This is completely unbeta’d so sorry about any typos. Yes, I realize canon Billy is incredibly problematic. This fic is not an endorsement of abusive, crappy behavior. Both reader and Billy are at least 18 in this fic if not recently graduated and older.

Your friendship with Bill Hargrove was...odd. No one understood it. Your parents hated him enough that he was banned from your home. Your friends accepted it but kept their distance; opting to disappear when he strode over to your locker each morning in the hallway. It didn’t even fully make sense to you. You hated bullies. You hated his arrogance and cruelty. While it was no excuse for his actions, he wasn’t like that around you. 

You’d like to think that in the months you’d become friends he’d improved. His suspensions decreased. He was able to swallow his rage and stop throwing punches at those who crossed him. He was no saint, but you doubted he ever would be. 

This evening wasn’t unlike any of the others you spent with Billy. You both had finished your shifts as lifeguards at the Hawkins pool. Knowing your parents were home this Friday, you’d gone over to billy's place instead. His father was, with any luck, already well on his way to blackout drunk in the town bar. 

Billy had been a gentleman and let you shower first. He claimed he couldn’t stand you whining about your chlorine coated skin any longer. You know that was his usual mask hiding the kindness that was just below his surface. 

“Hurry the fuck up, Billy. I’m starving and you don’t wanna deal with me when I'm hangry” you called down the hall to the bathroom. He’d left the door cracked to let the steam out. 

You don’t get any response other than a deep chuckle. 

You’re sitting on the edge of his twin bed. The well worn fabric of his plaid quilt is familiar from the many movie nights. He kept the small ranch home freezing cold and had always let you steal if off his bed. 

Exasperated in how long he was taking, you lay back, feet still planted firmly on the floor. The bed smelled like Billy. There was the burn and spice of his cologne sitting clearly on the surface. Below that was a subtle smokiness from the cigarettes and weed his was fond of. The evidence was littered in the ashtray on his bedside table. Below all that, was a smell all his own. Warm and sweet like sunshine just after a thunderstorm. 

You wondered how many other women had thought the smell was nice as they laid on this bed in a far different position than you were in. The thought should repulse you. You loved to tease Billy about all his female love interests. He was quick to remind you it wasn’t love for him. “Never will be”.

An annoying tingle took up residency between your thighs. Billy had been naked on these very sheets. He’d fucked no doubt countless classmates of yours. You contemplated your next moves. Straining your ears you still hear the steady stream of the shower and Billy singing along to Guns n’ Roses on the radio.

He pleasures himself on this bed. 

That did it for you. 

You lifted your feet off the floor to rest on the ridge of the metal frame, legs still hanging over the side of the bed but now spread wide. Your eyes shut tight, engrossing yourself in the daydream while your hand wandered south below your waistband and into your panties. 

Billy laying spread eagle across the bed. The fan across the room trained on the bed subtly blowing the curls off his face but doing nothing to quell the fire across his skin. The same fire now across your skin as your fingers dip into your wetness. Would he touch himself with his dominant hand or his non-dominant hand? Does he stroke himself fast or slow with a deep pressure grip around his cock?

A whimper leaves your mouth. The image of him in his bed, calloused hand around his cock, pumping slow and firm strokes down his length was pushing your fingers to rub faster circles on your clit. Maybe he’d even been so worked up he didn’t even put down the cigarette he was about to light. It hangs limp from his lips as he moans deep from his chest in your fantasy. 

Your breath escapes of small huffs and pants. A sighed fuuuuck tumbles from your mouth as you push your middle finger into your wet heat. 

In your bliss you hadn’t heard the shower stream cease. You hadn’t heard the warbly singing stop. You hadn’t heard the squeaky metal grating from the door knob turning. 

You certainly didn’t feel Billy's presence as he stood in a towel in his doorway; watching you twitch and whine on his bed with your hand down your pants. You didn’t notice the smirk of his lips as he saw the blush that spread across your chest and cheeks. 

“What do we have here?” he says, leaning casually against his door frame. 

You wrench your hand from your pants and sit up to see him. Fuck. The ratty towel is slung low on his hips and his curls drip stray water droplets down his shirtless frame. You hate how your pussy clenches in response. 

“Billy, I-”

“Oh don’t stop on my account.” You face is burning with shame as he saunters towards his bed flinging the door shut. “Though I have to ask, what got you going, sweetheart?”

You have every intention of telling him to fuck off but those aren’t the words that come out

“You.” It’s barely a whisper. 

He holds his hand up to his ear, now standing directly in front of you. His belly button level with your head. “Couldn’t hear you, baby?”

You can’t bring yourself to look up and meet his eyes. 

“Knowing what’s happened in this bed. The women you’ve fucked here. You pleasuring yourself.” The last word trails off. He kneels suddenly between your legs. 

“Wanna know a secret, sweetheart?” The silence hangs heavy in the air. “I’ve never brought a girl back here to this bed.” 

His calloused palms rest on your hips just above your waistband. “That being said, a man has needs. So I’m not denying I haven’t jerked my cock here countless times.” 

His tone is vulgar and cocky. You wanna smack him. Your friend was a dick teasing you like this. His hands grab your pants and pull them down over your ass along with your panties in one smooth motion. 

“Billy stop!”

You’re laid bare before him. The lips of your cunt still sticky from your previous arousal. He pushes your torso back on the bed and spreads your legs wider still. You don’t know what to feel. Your arousal swirls with shame and confusion. He was your best friend and he’d caught you pleasuring yourself on his bed. Yet he was now staring between your thighs like you’d seen him stare at other girls he’d wanted to fuck. You should want to snap your legs closed. 

“Billy what the fuck is wrong with you. You’re not gonna fuck me and leave me like all the other girls.” 

His focus shifts from your pussy to meet your eyes and for a moment his tone turns deadly. “Oh darling, I don’t do this for other girls.” 

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

“Billy don’t!”

You clamp your eyes shut and scream from the sensation. It’s exhilarating and terrifying all at once. You can’t believe you’ve put this much trust in a boy like Billy Hargrove. He seems to have found all your deepest darkest places, things you were ashamed to think, pulled them to the surface and embraced them. In his own fashion. He was buried deep in you and you didn’t want him to leave. 

“Billy!” It’s a chanted plea at this point. You’d never begged to a boy before. Now you’re praying to one who may as well be the antichrist for how much he plans on answering you. The dark chuckle which blooms out of his lips works like a spell cast on you. Your hands unclench from the fabric below you and your eyes open; wide and ready. 

“Do you feel it, sweetheart?” His tone dips sinful and deep. He always got like this around her. It makes your cheeks flush with warmth. “Feel those vibrations?” 

You look over at Billy, meeting the sea blue eyes. He looks like a kid you think. His smile isn’t the smug sneer worn for others. It’s genuine. Beaming. You glance at her speedometer. 

“Fucking hell, Billy!” You grab his hand in hopes he’ll listen. The Camero, Billy’s cobalt blue baby, races down the backroads of Hawkins going nearly forty over the posted speed limit. You wanted to be mad. You should be. The joy so plainly etched on the tortured boy’s face made you forget the danger and enjoy the rush along with him. He was happiest with his two girls. 

* * *

“Bill don’t-”

“Don’t what?” His eyelashes flutter against his flushed cheeks. His hot breath pants puffs of air against your lips. Asshole. How dare he be so smug. He loved to see you, his innocent darling, turn competitive and feisty.

“Touch you?” His thumb drags a slow circle around your clit. The rough callus of his finger pad felt amazing but you managed to keep your hips flat on the bed. You glared at him. A challenge. This was a fucking game. A game the two of you had played before, albeit with different terms. Regardless, you intended to win. 

“Lick you?” He flattens his tongue and licks from your puckered hole to your clit. Your hips jerk. He lingers long enough to swipe into your entrance and collect your wetness. He slurps. His behavior is obscene. The growl he made as he tasted you is what did it. Surrender. You give up. But then the sensation is gone. 

“Or fuck you?” His eyes smolder. He bites his lip and tilts his head to the side goading you for an answer. He knows what the fuck he’s doing. He’s done this to countless other girls. Say the right things, enhance the pretty edge to dangerous face. Lie. 

Fuck him. There will be no white flag.

You swing your hand with your full weight behind it expecting to leave a bruise. The connection never comes. Your wrist is grasped in his hand. 

“Nuh uh, baby girl. You can’t lie to me.” He sets your hand free knowing full well you won’t make the attempt again. “I know you...and you know me.” 

His tone softens as he adds the second bit. Your hand tangles into his curls and pulls him between your thighs. There’s only a moment of hesitation before he’s on you. He licks, nips, and sucks; finding the right combination which has you panting. His hands roam over your hips and up your stomach. They graze under your breasts but don’t linger. 

“Billy don’t-” This time it comes out different. He’s so used to you scolding him. Billy don’t drive too fast. Billy don’t tease the freshman. Billy don’t ditch class. Billy don’t be mean to Max. He loved each “Billy don’t” because it meant you cared. This one though. 

“Billy don’t fucking stop!” 

He groans into your core as you grind helplessly against his face. He wants to drag it out. How many more times can he get you to moan his name before you change your mind again and “Billy don’t” him away for real this time? His index slips into you. 

“Fuck Billy.” 

That may be a new favorite. He pumps and pushes two fingers now, feeling you writhe and clench on him. What he would give to feel you give the same treatment to his cock. He’s accepted this will be done when you come undone. His brain has. His cock hasn’t. His hips drag pathetically against the side of the bed painting patterns of precum on the quilt; towel long since abandoned. 

“Billy, Billy, Billy!” You’ve been reduced to incoherent babble. His name is the only clear word to escape your mouth unscathed. He’s moaning against your clit as he savors you. Your hands clench further in his curls; pulling him impossibly closer to you, chasing the last bit of friction that you need. He lets you grind against his face while he massages patterns inside you. 

“Billy I’m gonna-” 

That’s the saddest one yet. It means it’s over. You spasm on his face and he takes it. Drinks it down and hopes for more. You’re tart and sweet. He thinks it reminds him of when you say fuck. The first time you had, it nearly knocked him on his ass. How was this sweet girl capable of uttering such filth? He’d had to go jerk off in the bathroom stalls after he’d knocked your books out of your hand his first day at Hawkins High. 

“What the fuck is your problem?” The memory still got him hard. 

Your back stops arching and touches back on the bed. He can’t stop tasting you. He rests his head lazily against your inner thigh until you reprehend him the way only you can. One more lick he thinks. One more to memorize your taste. One more to memorize your sounds. You twitch and whimper, too over sensitive to control your movements but too overfucked to care. 

“Billy don’t.” 

There is is. He knew it was coming. He thought maybe he’d get it right this time. It’s soft at least. Maybe vulnerable. Sort of like when you fall asleep tucked in his side during a movie night. When your eyes first flutter open, he can see the pleasure. You push him away and joke he tried to cop a feel. Maybe he had. 

He stops licking your core only to kiss the skin on your thigh. Your hip. Your belly button. Then he’s pulling you up onto the bed all together. Your legs are numb to everything. You’re numb to everyone except Billy. When had your shirt come off? Did it matter? 

Billy kisses the crests of your breasts before licking into your collar. He’s pressed against you and you can feel him. Skin on skin. His palm cups your chin and you finally taste him. Marlboro smoke, peppermint toothpaste, and something honey sweet. You taste your cunt on the hair of his mustache. You want a night alone with him. You want to learn and taste every inch of him staying up all night. You push him away. 

“Billy don-” His fingers pry your hand off his shoulder. You need him off you. Every second his skin is on yours you know its a second longer it will take to forget him. His fingers intertwined with yours; pinning them above your head. You’re getting carried away. 

* * *

He doesn’t fuck you that night. At least, his cock was never inside you. You tell yourself it makes it easier. Maybe you fucked yourself. You got carried away. He so easily made you go numb with pleasure. You stand on wobbly legs in the moonlight streaming through his window while searching for your clothes. He hands you your shirt. You don’t meet his eyes. 

“Sweetheart.” His voice is gravelly and full of need. How fucking dare he. Another tally for him to add to his collection. How dare he not drop the act. It wasn’t though. Maybe part of you knew. He wanted you to stay. He wanted to hold you. He would have stayed up all night listening to your snores and soaking up all the affection for which he was deficient. He would have kissed you awake so he could sneak you home in his Camaro. He wanted to ask if he could do this for you every night.

“Billy. Don’t.”


End file.
